


Case 67: The Adventure of The Frightful Frankfurter (1887)

by Cerdic519



Series: Elementary 221B [87]
Category: Sherlock Holmes & Related Fandoms, Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe - Detectives, Alternate Universe - Victorian, Bacon, Caring, Destiel - Freeform, Elections, Germany, Johnlock - Freeform, M/M, Newspapers, Politics, Scandal
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-27
Updated: 2018-11-27
Packaged: 2019-09-01 08:26:23
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,918
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16761553
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Cerdic519/pseuds/Cerdic519
Summary: ֍ Those in power will sometimes do anything – or anyone – to hold on to that power. But when they make the mistake of upsetting a certain consulting detective over his tru....best friend, that will only end badly.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [princessgolux](https://archiveofourown.org/users/princessgolux/gifts).



_[Narration by Mr. Sherlock Holmes, Esquire]_

The bothersome business with the Dutch 'princess' barely interested me, as I had a much more pressing problem to attend to. Watson. He clearly expected us to have to return to England sooner rather than later and to add to my troubles he had taken a dislike to Amsterdam for some reason, so I said that we would be leaving the following morning. 

But when I came down to breakfast (there was bacon but that was not necessarily why I was early), who should be there but my brother Luke.

“Mother sent me to check up on you”, he said cheerfully as if that would somehow make me feel better (I supposed at least he had not brought me any of her stories to read, which was one small mercy). “Plus Bacchus had a few things that he wanted sorting in the area and was whining that you were Not Doing Your Patriotic Duty in rushing to help him every time he whistled.”

“Children and unpleasant lounge-lizards should not always be given what they want”, I said a little sententiously ordering the largest breakfast they had and ignoring someone's eye-roll. “No matter how much they whine.”

At that moment I caught sight of Watson approaching, looking as handsome as ever. He saw Luke and his face fell; I could all too easily guess his thoughts and he moved to order his own breakfast at the counter. He had seen Luke only once before but he clearly feared the worst from his presence.

“Now that I have seen you are _both_ all right”, Luke smiled, “I can adjourn to the delights of this city such as they are. You know that Mother considers him one of the family already. She has ever written a story about you both!”

I was horrified!

“If you tell me about it I shall disown you!” I hissed. “Or I shall telegraph Campbell and ask Banjax to give you another triple session!”

(I should mention at this point that Banjax was in fact Mr. Benjamin Jackson-Giles, the youngest of the poor men we had rescued from the horrors of the Tankerville Club some eight years - eight years! - back. After Mr. Little had gone off with a certain randy Polynesian princeling, the tall black man had become my brother's 'regular' lover despite being married with a growing family. It was I suppose a curious arrangement but it worked, especially as a certain annoying brother nodded eagerly at the prospect of more sex. Which made me think......no.

Watson came up looking glum.

“Luke is concerned about me”, I said, looking at him with no particular expression. He sighed and handed over two of his four rashers and I smiled at him. It was just like being back home.

“I suppose that he wants you back in England”, he said sourly. “It was a good run while it lasted.”

I shook my head.

“I made it quite clear to all my brothers that I was on holiday from now on”, he said firmly. “Luke was ordered to check up on me by Mother, who is presumably panicking that so many of her sons are out of England at one and the same time.”

Watson nodded and sighed.

“I shall have to return soon though”, he said. “The surgery did not give me that long away from my few remaining patients and surely the fuss over that dreadful woman has died down by......”

He stopped and looked sharply at me. He may have been destined to never be a detective but he was becoming far too good at reading me. I blushed slightly.

“That was the other thing”, I said looking at him nervously. “I may have arranged to borrow you from them for a little longer, say a few months. I thought that a break would do us both good.”

There was a definite quivering of the lower lip, and he looked at me as if I was the most wonderful man on earth. And most importantly of all he gave me the rest of his bacon!

֍

We called in at Cologne and spent a few days in the city, Watson particularly liking the great cathedral. Bonn, a small town a little way south, was less interesting but worth a day's exploring, and Coblenz was a most charming place where we spent a couple of days just walking around. I was enjoying myself especially as I could see Watson beginning to relax into our holiday. And it was nice not to have to worry about any cases; Luke had passed onto Bacchus that nothing short of a major war should be allowed to intrude into our sojourn or Mother might well be getting some rather interesting telegrams from Germany concerning him and a daughter of someone rather prominent in the House of Lords. Everything was wonderful.

Until we reached Frankfurt.

The City of Frankfurt-on-Main to give it its full title was, until the 1866 Prussian takeover that created a unified German Empire, a free city that more or less ran its own affairs. I had arranged at least four days here as there was a lot to see and I knew that Watson was looking forward to it. I had an even bigger surprise some way further along our trip but it was so good to see him happy right now.

I am fortunate in that while I have never studied any foreign language to a great degree, I am able to pick up the gist of written if not spoken words quite quickly. And this served me well when, on our second morning there, I tried myself out on a local newspaper called rather oddly _'Der Maschine Bauch'_ (literally 'The Belly Machine'; I did not want to ask!). The main article was about the mayoral election later that week and it was all too clear that the writer did not think much of one of the candidates. 

Then my stomach plummeted. In a smaller article on the right of the front page there was Watson's name! Ye Gods we had only arrived in the place yesterday and they were already on to him. Worse, there was also the name 'Frau Flyte' (that had been the maiden name of the dratted Mrs. Fforbes-Black) so even though I could not understand every word I soon had the gist of the article. This was dreadful!

֍

I had one piece of luck that morning apart from the obvious fact that my friend would have no interest in a German newspaper. We arrived at the cathedral to find that they did tours in English, lasting some two hours. I suggested to Watson that I might meet him when it was done and was thus able to slip away to the British consulate and seek out someone who could fully translate the dreadful article for me. They were able to provide me with an affable young fellow called Mr. Albert Knight who was most helpful.

“I can at least tell you how they knew so fast”, he said. “The company that owns this rag publishes newspapers along the Rhine Valley, so somewhere you stayed one of their contacts must have bribed a member of your hotel staff to find out where you were headed.”

“And the article?” I asked anxiously.

“Clever innuendo without ever actually saying anything”, he said. “All ifs, buts and maybes. I take it that the good doctor cannot read German?”

“No”, I fretted, “but he can read people. And he will soon notice if they start reacting to him in an odd way. What is wrong with these people that they have to publish trash like this, and on the front page!”

“I am frankly surprised that they bothered to cover it at all, if truth be told”, Mr. Knight said. “They are all up in arms over the election this week.”

“Why?” I asked.

“Mayor Merkel has served three terms already and is a great favourite of the paper's owners”, he explained. “But she is bitterly unpopular because of her bad management of the city in recent years and she faces a strong challenge this Friday. She may well lose and I would have expected her journalistic allies to give every inch of coverage they had to saving her.”

“Who is her opponent?” I asked.

“Another lady, a Frau Fischer”, he said. “A councillor and in my opinion a far better human being than the mayor. But she will lose.”

“How can you know that?” I asked. He smiled sourly and gestured to the offending newspaper.

“The 'Embee' there will by an _amazing_ coincidence discover some major scandal about her that they will get out on the very day of the election”, he said. “That was how 'Mutti' dealt with her last opponent. Are you going to take action against the newspaper on your friend's behalf?”

I must have had some sort of reaction to that because he actually took a step back from me, visibly alarmed.

“I am most _definitely_ going to take action!” I said firmly.

֍

Mr. Knight was able to point me in the direction of an English speaking lawyer who, my having apprised him of what had happened, swiftly dispatched a letter to the newspaper advising them that any further allegations against Watson would result in very costly legal proceedings being initiated, and that the British government itself might be inclined to get involved if necessary. With Berlin then looking to drive Great Britain and France apart, any annoying of our Nation would not have been in their interests. I was still greatly relieved however when the following day came and Watson's name was not in the paper; the helpful Mr. Knight had some of his staff check thoroughly but there was no mention even on the inside pages. My friend was safe.

I was still mad, though.

֍


	2. Chapter 2

As its full name suggests the city of Frankfurt lies on the River Main, just over ten miles from where it flows into the Rhine at nearby Mainz. On the third day I had arranged for us to take a trip to the latter town by boat knowing that Watson would find the flat calm of the German rivers much more to his liking than some of our choppy sea-crossings. The way he kept looking around at all the sights like an excited schoolboy on his first major trip out was ado... charming. And when he insisted on finding a restaurant in Mainz that served bacon - _speck_ was one of the few German words that he had picked up - I could only smile at having such a wonderful friend.

Our hotel had a small museum next to it that, surprisingly, was still open on our late return to the town. As we had a full last day tomorrow that would include moving to our next stop Watson asked if he could see it now; I was hungry but thought I would have to go as surely he would be lost with all the German signs. Fortunately the place had all its important signs in English as well so I was able to head to dinner. He knew that it would be bacon (or as he put it, bacon-again) but there was a definite smile as we parted.

Mr. Knight had agreed to meet me that evening and was able to catch me at dinner before Watson came to join me. Although he was a little surprised at my request.

“This will be very expensive”, he said. “Mainz is the nearest place and they will then have to be shipped here.”

“Expense is no object”, I said firmly. “This is for a friend.”

He looked at me a little oddly but smiled.

“Of course”, he said. “For a friend.”

I had this nagging feeling that I may have been a little more transparent in some areas that I would have liked. Thankfully Mr. Knight was kind enough not to comment on that, although the knowing smirk was.... well, I always thought that people who smirked knowingly were so annoying! I had said as much to Watson more than once, and for some reason he had always seemed to find it amusing. Strange.

֍

The next day was the day of the election. Watson came shuffling down to breakfast yawning and I did not even have to look at him before he handed over half his bacon. He got a thankful look in return so it was a fair deal.

“Is there no newspaper this morning?” he asked looking around. The hotel did have an English-speaking newspaper but its arrival was infrequent.

“One of the normal ones has not been able to be put out”, I explained.

He looked at me in surprise.

“Why was that?” he asked.

“It seems that some vandal visited the factory last night and applied super-strength glue to all the windows and doors”, he said. “Even to the metal gates on the way in. Still I dare say that Frankfurt can cope for one day without a solitary newspaper. And I understand that what with all the excitement over the election a Mainz paper is being shipped up here for those who are interested.”

We were interrupted by the noisy entrance of a red-faced besuited fellow in his fifties, who looked angrily around the room before seeing us. He strode over and waved a newspaper at us.”

 _“You_ are Mr. Sherlock Holmes!” he said accusingly.

“I have never denied that”, I said affably. “Have I, Watson?”

“I do not think so”, he said. “You are midway through demolishing all that bacon, so I am fairly sure that it _is_ you.”

The besuited man spluttered indignantly.

“You did this!” he all but yelled. People in the room were beginning to notice but he clearly did not care. “You were behind the attack on my factory and this.... filth!”

“It looks like a newspaper to me”, I said idly. “Is there anything interesting in it?”

He really did look like he might need Watson's professional services if he got any redder. Although I doubted he would get them, at least if I had anything to say about it.

 _Is there anything in it?_ he yelled.

“It was a not unusual question”, I said calmly. “Was there some part of it you did not understand? I can try it in German but I do not think that that would be very good.”

Watson coughed for no particular reason.

“These vile accusations against Frau Merkel!” the newcomer yelled. “Fraud! Theft of money destined for the poor. Laws passed to help friends of hers!”

“She can always sue for slander or libel”, I said. “I am sure that the laws in Germany are much the same as in England.” I paused before adding, “that is of course _if_ the allegations are untrue.”

That clearly caught him out and he had to think of a way round it.

“You know as well as I do that there are many levels of the truth in politics”, he said cagily (I thought for some reason of a certain unpleasant brother when he said that). “This was deliberately done on the day of the election so she has no time to fight back!”

“Terrible!” I agreed. “I am sure that _your_ newspaper would never stoop to such low-grade tactics. What was _your_ leading headline going to be today by the way?”

He spluttered again and took some time to form an answer.

“This is your revenge for our daring to mention your friend's shady past!” he stormed. 

I winced. Watson however seemed unaffected by his accusation. Curious.

“Perhaps you had better go and see if you can scrape together an afternoon edition that could be out before polls close”, I suggested. “I do not know Frau Merkel but I doubt she is the sort to forgive those who let her down. In England such people who do not make every effort to 'help' when asked – or demanded - tend not to do well, in my experience.”

He spluttered again but strode off. I wondered whether he had yet found that all his printing ink had been rendered useless by the application of a mild alkali, then looked across curiously at Watson.

“I knew”, he said.

I was shocked.

“How?” I demanded. “You do not speak a word of German?”

He blushed.

“One of the maids, Helga, asked me if I was the gentleman in the paper and translated it for me”, he said.

“That was good of her”, I said before it suddenly hit me. “Wait a minute. She translated it for you out of the goodness of her heart?”

He blushed fiercely. Oh Lord, what had he gone and done? I would kill that bloody maid!

“She said she wanted a picture of you”, he muttered. “I promised to post her one once we got back into England.”

I did not laugh. I did not, honestly.

“Shut up!” he hissed. But he was smiling as he said it. And he passed me the rest of his bacon, which was sort of appreciated.

֍

_Postscriptum: Frau Merkel lost her re-election bid by less than three per cent. I later learned that the irate newspaper owner at our breakfast table had had to undergo hospital treatment when he had suffered four broken ribs, a head injury, two broken arms and one broken leg. He 'fell' down the stairs after a meeting.... with Frau Merkel. How clumsy of him!_

֍


End file.
